Page 40 of Rival for Rent
“Sitting.”
“I can see that,” he said. “But why there? The view’s nicer by the windows.”
“From here, I can see anyone who comes into the room. And I can put myself between them and you, if necessary.” I frowned at the windows. “Have you considered moving to a different office until this is all over? I don’t like all that glass behind you.”
He tossed a pen down on his desk and gave me a long look. “Okay, what is this? Do you miss the Army? Is this an excuse to play the hero and reenact your days overseas?”
“No,” I said sharply. “It’s me taking the threat against you seriously, even if you refuse to. And I was in the Marines. Not the Army.”
“Oh, pardon me. My mistake.” Kai shot a look over his shoulder at the windows, then back at me. “But I seriously doubt mystalker hired a sniper to take me out from two office buildings away.”
“You never know.”
He rolled his eyes—again—but didn’t argue. In fact, he barely spoke to me the rest of the day. He had two meetings, both in his office, both with employees who threw me wary glances and wisely said nothing when he told them to ignore me.
I kept myself busy. Texted Dana to bring some of my clothes over to Kai’s place that evening. Ordered groceries to be delivered too, since his kitchen was a barren wasteland. And I started researching security systems—how many cameras we’d need, where they should go, what kind of window sensors made the most sense, and which companies had the best monitoring services. I’d need his sign-off eventually, of course, but by the time the workday wound down, I felt confident I could turn his house into something that at least approximated secure. Whether he cared or not,Iwould sleep better knowing I’d done it.
At some point, he took a call from the security company he’d contacted the day before. He didn’t tell me who it was, but I wasn’t an idiot—it wasn’t hard to figure out what was happening from the bits of his side of the conversation I overheard.
“Yes, thanks for calling back… I appreciate it, but I think I’ve wasted your time… Yeah, no, it turns out I don’t need… Right, no, I understand. But in this case… Mm-hmm. Right… Yeah, thanks. But I think I’m all set.”
When he hung up, he glanced over at me. I couldn’t read his face. Still couldn’t tell if he’d decided I wasn’t as awful as he thought,or if he was just keeping me around because he wanted someone to yell at until this was all over.
The ride back to his house was quiet, and we pulled up right as the grocery delivery guy was dropping bags off on the front steps. Kai stared like he’d never seen food before.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Food,” I said, grabbing the bags. “Your kitchen situation is too depressing for words. If I’m staying here, I’m going to eat real food.”
Bella practically danced around my feet as I brought the bags inside, her nose twitching like crazy. I could feel her tail whapping against my leg as she nosed one of the bags.
“Sorry, girl,” I said, lifting it out of reach and setting it on the counter. “No kale for you.”
“You ordered kale?” Kai asked, eyebrows lifting.
“What?” I said, pulling out produce—grapes, oranges, tomatoes, garlic. “You act like that’s shocking.”
“I just… I don’t know. I guess I’m surprised it’s something you eat.”
Heat prickled in my chest. I reminded myself I was here to protect him, not start fights. Still, every time I thought we were getting somewhere, his attitude slapped me in the face again.
“Why?” I asked tightly. “Because I’m too poor? Or because I’m too stupid?”
“Forget it,” he said. “Order whatever you want. I’m going upstairs to work some more.”
Fine by me. The less I saw him, the less chance he’d get under my skin. Not that he wasn’t already there. At this point, he was practically building a two-story vacation house under my ribs.
If you dislike him so much, why’d you move in with him?
I ignored the thought and turned my attention to the food. If Kai thought I didn’t know what to do with kale, I’d prove him wrong. I’d cook the best damn dinner I could and make him eat his words with a side of lemon-herb chicken.
An hour later, I set two plates on the corner of the dining table and called up to tell him dinner was ready.
He came down looking suspicious, like he didn’t recognize the scent of herbs and garlic. Bella followed close behind him, tongue out, eyes pleading, even though she’d already gotten her dinner.
“What did you make?” he asked, eyeing the spread like it might explode.
“Lemon herb chicken piccata,” I said. “Over creamy pasta. With kale.”
